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Her heart jerked around inside her chest as though it were suspended on a piece of elastic. The ache in her breasts curled down through her belly to taunt her sex and tease from it a throbbing pulse of excitement and longing. She realised that she should be horrified by the way she was reacting to him in view of what she had now discovered, horrified and determined not to let him touch he sickened by the thought of him touching her. But she also knew that she wasn't; instead she wanted him with a physical intensity that held her fast in an unfamiliar, almost violent grip.
‘Is that what you wanted to say to me, Emily—that I cant make you want me any more, that I cant arouse you, that I can't do this...? He lifted his hand and stroked a fingertip down the side of her neck and along her collar-bone, making her shudder in violent erotic delight. He had moved closer to her so close that she could smell the familiar scent of his cologne and the aroused heat of his body.
Was it that, with its powerful but subtle message of male sexuality, that was turning her boneless with aching longing for him even while her mind was telling her that she should resist him and that this was no way for her to behave if she truly wanted him to believe what she had said?
She should say something, tell him to stop; tell him that there was no point in this for either of them. But she knew that she wouldn't, just as she knew that some deep-rooted female part of her wanted this show of male dominance from him wanted her own sense of fierce surging excitement, wanted and needed the pure, fierce searing heat of the mutual lust they had conjured up out of nowhere. She could quite easily have pushed past him. Emily knew, and she knew too that Marco would not try to stop her if she did. But the reality was that she didn't want to...The reality was that her body was possessed by an incendiary mix of anger and desire that took fire from Marcos determination to confront her with her own acceptance of his power to arouse her.
‘But that would be a lie. wouldn't it?' Marco challenged her softly as he continued his relentless sensual assault, his lips brushing the bare flesh of her throat in between each word, imprisoning her in her own wild arousal.
‘Wouldn't it?' he insisted as he slid his hand beneath her sweater and freed her breasts from the constriction of her bra. A low moan of unappeased longing bubbled in her throat as he fed her craving for his possession.
‘You want more?' he demanded, his voice thickening and softening.
‘No!' Emily lied. She could feel his hand cupping her breast and his fingertips stroking deliberately against her nipple again. She knew she couldn't hold out much longer against the dammed-up force of her own need. With a low sound of surrender, she reached blindly for him drawing his head down towards her own her lips parting for his kiss and the swift, exultant victory of his tongue.
She could feel the thick hardness of his manhood pressing against her body. In her minds eye she visualised his naked body, familiar now after their years together, seeing behind her closed eyes the thick sheathing of smooth flesh over rigid muscle, where it rose from the dark silky thickness of hair. She could almost feel the smooth warmth of him so enticingly supple to her touch, and so responsive to the caress of her fingers and her mouth. Fresh longing seized her. Impetuously she reached down between their bodies to touch him spanning his length with the spread of her fingertips, and then stroking his thickness. A deep purr of satisfaction gathered in her throat as she felt him stiffen further and then pulse, becoming a moan of out-of-control urgency when she felt him tugging at the fastening of her skirt.
Not even in their early days together had she experienced this degree of intense need, she recognised. It was so much bolder than anything she remembered feeling before; bolder, and fiercer and hungrier—the sexual desire of a woman who must be satisfied.
The demoralising fear that had in recent weeks sucked from her any delight in their intimacy was as easily sloughed off by their shared passion as were their clothes, unwanted encumbrances that prevented her from taking all that she could. Marco was driving both of them to that place where they had no choice other than to plunge into the turbulent flood of the maelstrom together.
Emilys fingers trembled over and tugged at his shirt buttons and trouser fastenings, her endeavours deliberately interrupted by him when he raked his teeth against the sensitive thrust of her nipple, causing her to gasp and then moan, unable to do anything other than give in to the intensity of the sensation he was inflicting on her. When pleasure was this intense, she thought frantically, it bordered on the almost unendurable. And yet she wouldn't have wanted it any other way wouldn't have wanted any other man wouldn't have been able to reach this lack of inhibition with anyone else.
